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PROCRASTINATION, 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 



BY A LADY. 






BOSTON: 


PUBLISHED BY D. S. KING, 

32 Washington Street. 
1840. 







.■■f4 






.•^' i^. 



Entered according to an Act of Congreis, In the year 1840, 
DT D. 8. KINO, 

In the Clerk'i Office of the District Court of Masiachuaetts, 



D4TID H. £la, Printer, 37 CornhilL 



PREFACE. 



The little narrative which is presented to the reader 
in these few pages, is offered in the hope, that as the 
perusal is completed and the hook laid aside, an im- 
pression of the uncertainty of life and the danger of 
delaying its highest interests may remain, upon the 
mind, so that when the incidents here recorded shall 
be no more remembered, the influence of its warning 
may be felt on the heart, by carefully cherishing the 
first desires for religion, and continually strengthening 
the feeblest resolutions to obtain it. 

The story is true, with change of names and dates, 
and the addition:or«ome conversations. I'hat life may 
be so suddenly reclaimed by Him who gave it, should 
ever command our serious thoughts, and incite us to 
constant preparation for its important duties, and for 
the rapidly approaching moment when it shall be 
^* swallowed up in immortality." 



PROCRASTINATION; 

OR, 

MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 



CHAPTER I. 



My Dear Miss Russell : 

I RECEIVED your kind letter of the 4th in- 
stant, and hasten to answer it, with my heart 
full of happy emotions, and my mind as full 
of pleasant thoughts. Father, ever indulgent, 
has this morning given me permission to pass 
the winter with my sister and all our deiar 
friends in Boston. O! how delightful will 
be to me even its most indifferent streets, on 
returning to my native city. You cannot ap- 
preciate my feelings, having never been com- 
pelled to exchange our gay circle there, for a 
dull, uninteresting residence in the country ; 



8 procrastination; or, 

but when I tell you that I have been almost 
constantly discontented, you will, I am sure, 
congratulate me upon my approaching enjoy- 
ment. I tried to love our little cottage and 
its rural scenes, because my father planned 
and loved them, and they were very pleasant 
all summer, and through the months of Sep- 
tember and October, when the landscape was 
more rich and beautiful than I can describe to 
you ; but with the early snow storm, which 
came and covered the shrubs and plants ere 
the freshness of their coloring was gone, my 
resolutions of contentment vanished away. 
Through all the season past, I have been 
thinking if I could spend the winter in Bos- 
ton, I should be perfectly happy. I could 
see nothing which could be unpleasant ; but 
noWy when my wish is about to be fulfilled, 
there is much which does not quite correspond 
with my anticipations. However, when I am 
there, I hope my desires may be realized. 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 9 

I sometimes tremble as I look into the fu- 
ture; and when imagination pictures before 
me the bright scenes in which I shall soon 
participate, an unwelcome feeling of insecurity 
as surely comes up and overshadows it all. 
It may be occasioned by that consciousness 
of the uncertainty of life, which it is so nat- 
ural to feel when those around us, in the full 
prospect of long life and happiness, are called 
to sickness and death. You are probably 
aware that our gay young friend, Mr. Max- 
well, has recently been brought to his own 
home, in an adjoining town, in the last stages 
of consumption. It is said he seems unwill- 
ing to die, converses but little, and notwith- 
standing he has been always so kind and 
agreeable, deeply regrets his past life, and 
appears only anxious to prepare for the 
change which awaits him. I have sought to 
banish this melancholy event from my mind, 
but cannot : one evening with you will, I hope, 
dissipate this gloom. 
1 



lb procrastination; or, 

I must tell you that I have made the ac- 
quaintance, almost involuntarily, of a lady 
whom I shall ever value for her excellence of 
character, refinement of mind, and unusually 
interesting manners. She is uniformly and 
consistently pious ; consequently, thoughtless 
as I often am about religious subjects, I have 
ever listened with pleasure to any counsel 
from her. But this morning, when, with all 
my elation of spirits, I informed her of my 
expected return to the city, she looked sad, 
and replied — 

" If it be for the best, I am glad you are 
going." 

" If it be for the best ! " I exclaimed, vexed 
by what I thought unseasonable solemnity, 
" it is for the best." 

" That is not always best for us which our 
hearts may choose," she said in the same 
manner ; " I thought you were beginning to 
love our hills, and woods, and streams, and 
hoped these would draw away your mind 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 11 

from the light pleasures by which you have 
been surrounded, to the contenaplation of God, 
and attention to the one great object of life ; 
now you will return to those pleasures, I fear, 
to forget thtse.^^ 

Although convinced that the admonition 
was not unseasonable, I did not forbear to re- 
proach her for want of sympathy with me. 
But I have not yet given you the name of 
this good friend ; it is simply Anne Dayton. 
I wish I could introduce you to her ; although 
very unlike, I am sure you would love her. She 
is not much older than myself, yet I discover in 
her many things which remind me of my dear 
departed mother ; the same quiet, self-deny- 
ing manner, the same calm forehead and sweet 
expression around the mouth. 1 really leave 
her with regret. 

But I am writing y6u a long letter, consid- 
ering the hurry I am in, and will finish now, 
to engage in preparations for the more satis- 
factory pleasure of seeing you. Please pre- 



12 procrastination; or, 

sent my regards to your parents ; also, a cor- 
dial remembrance to our mutual friend, Mrs. 
Oakes ; and say to Miss Willis that I antici- 
pate spending many happy hours in her socie- 
ty the ensuing winter. I send this letter en- 
closed in one to my sister, at whose house I 
shall probably be by the commencement of 
next week, and shall expect, of course, to see 
you soon. 

Yours, affectionately, 

Maria Louisa. 



■ <<<#»>>■' 



CHAPTER II. 

Maria Louisa was the youngest daughter 
of Mr. Winslow, a gentleman of high re- 
spectability, and for many years a resident of 
Boston, where, having acquired an ample dx- 
tune by his profession, he resigned its honors 



MABIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 13 

and profits for a retired residence in the vil- 
lage of '• — , distant about — miles from 

the city, possessing in itself little literary in- 
terest^ and indeed offering few of the allure- 
ments of life to gratify the taste of his &sh- 
ionably educated daughter. Yet the place 
was rich in all the variety and beauty of New 
England scenery, and was far away from the 
bustle and business excitement to which Mr. 
Winslow bad been long accustomed, and of 
which he had become at last so weary. Ma- 
ria, now the only one who remained to cheer 
the home of her father, was nearly seventeen, 
and the season previous to the commence- 
ment of our story, had been " brought out'' 
to fashionable society by her elder married 
sister. It was an era crowded with tempta- 
tions, of which her young mind saw not the 
danger, while she partook the pleasure, and 
sought again and again its dangerous fascina- 
tions. She had received early religious im- 
pressions from a pious mother, who, while 
1* 



14 PROCRABTINATION ; OR, 

Maria was but a child, had been called from 
the delights of home, from the cares of her 
&mily, and from extensive usefulness, to her 
blissful reward above. The faithful lessons 
of this affectionate mother were never quite 
forgotten by Maria ; when she seemed most 
in need of these admonitions, they often came 
suddenly and uncalled to her mmd, as if the 
departed spirit of that sainted parent still 
watched over her thoughtless steps, and whis- 
pered to her inmost soul with gende warning 
voice. Sometimes, while in the brilliantly 
decorated hall, leading the merry dance, the 
remembrance of some holy hour would flit 
across her mind when the mother, whose form 
was wasted by consumption, and whose voice 
appeared to grow sweeter from the near ap« 
proach of that moment when it should join 
the "new song" above, interceded for her 
with Him who heareth prayer, that he would 
lead her in the " path of peace ;" and then 
the solemn question of her heart, Is it here ? — 



MARIA LOUISA WlKSLOW. 15 

made all things else forgotten. Often, too, 
amid the deceptive array of fashion and pleas- 
ure which compose the gay audience of the 
theatre, memory would again repeat some 
words of caution, to shun that place where 
thoughts of death and thoughts of heaven are 
banished from the soul. Yet with all her 
resolutions to refuse attention to pleasures so 
at war with her best good, she loved them 
still, and the pure revelations of their folly 
imparted by a better spirit, were becoming 
less and less frequent. 

Mr. Winslow had never received in his own 
heart the gift which is by grace, and though all 
but a Christian, this one thing he lacked ; and 
while with sacredness he treasured the re- 
membrance of the virtues of his departed 
wife, had never inclined his own feet to the 
narrow way of repentance and faith. Ever 
anxious for the welfare of his child, he had 
placed within her reach all which gayety and 
wealth call happiness ; for, unacquainted him* 



16 PI^OCRASTfNATION ; OB^ 

self with the true way, how could he direct 
the footsteps of his child ? 

Their removal to the country was a matter 
of deep regret to Maria. She felt sure that 
she could not enjoy the society of those who 
all their lives had dwelt upon their little farms, 
and could have no idea of the world, beyond 
their neighbors' lands, and scarcely any idea 
above their daily occupation. This, at least, 
was a part of her own picture of the country 
residence to be their home. It was true the 

good people of thought little of city 

vanities, knew less of its amusements, and 
cared nothing for the ^^ newest styles" and 
trivial modes from Paris. Thrifty, honest, 
and happy in their employment, they lived 
respected by each other, and most of them 
with reference to eternity. Maria found, to 
her astonishment, that many a refined mind 
sweetened that retired village, and many an 
humble, though elevated character, brightened 
its obscurity. 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 17 

Of this number was Miss Dayton, the only 
child of a farmer who resided near Mr. Wins- 
low's cottage. Mr. Dayton was in very 
humble circumstances, and often employed by 
Mr. Winslow to labor upon his grounds. To a 
firm and active mind, capable of appreciating 
causes and consequences, he added persever- 
ance and industry sufficient to have accom- 
plished his purposes, so that it appeared real- 
ly strange that he was not in possession of 
property equal in amount, at least, to that of 
his neighbors ; and quite a marvel it was to 
them for years, that good farmer Dayton, who 
had been so industrious all his days, could 
call " no spot of land his own." So it was ; 
the old gentleman had, for many years, even 
firom boyhood, maintained a simple-hearted 
trust in God, his first affections and thoughts 
being ever given to him, then to the small 
circle who depended upon his counsel and ef- 
forts. For this, many were disposed to mur- 
mur in his steady^nd Wonder that God should 



18 PROCBASTINATION ; OR, 

not more signally have interposed to prosper 
him, who, from the spirit he possessed and 
moments of holy communion he enjoyed, 
seemed to be a favorite of heaven. But the 
poor man's confidence failed not, and while 
he looked back upon a period of nearly fifty 
years, in which he had been endeavoring to do 
the will of God with all his heart, and could 
trace so many hopes of prosperity blasted and 
so many efforts providentially thwarted, he still 
knew in whom he had believed, and felt no 
rebellious emotions. For faith and love sode- 
. voted, the " reward of the inheritance" is not 
here, 

Anne had been, from childhood, in ill 
health, and generally unable to aid her parents 
in the more laborious duties of their little 
household. In her necessary exclusion bom 
these, she had assiduously applied her atten- 
tion to the improvement of her mind, and 
with good success, considering the limited 
means afforded her. « She discovered many 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 19 

ways of rendering herself of service to all. 
Ever gentle and affectionate to those around, 
and zealous toward God, she became, not- 
withstanding the sufferings to which she was 
subject, a useful member of society and a 
blessing to her parents. 



CHAPTER III. 

The few days which remained to Maria 
previous to the fulfilment of her wishes, were 
passing slowly away. Sometimes she im- 
agined time bad almost ceased its flight, and 
that the hours she had been long counting 
lost none from their number ; but, unhurried 
by her impatience, they maintained their 
steady course, and were gradually diminish- 
ing. 

Often she would regret leaving her father 



90 PBOCRASTINATION ; OR, 

and kind fKend, Miss Dsj^od, but there soon 
would follow a visioja of the parties, the 
dance, the bright saloon, and she thought 
herself unable to resist the temptation. No 
heart could promise itself more pleasure than 
she allotted for those few weeks ; and if 
a misgiving did sometimes darken these high 
anticipations, it was but for a moment ; new 
thoughts and busy preparations banished it 
away. 

The last long day at length arrived, and 
was closing. Every thing was in readiness 
for her departure. The first hour which she 
could afford from its employments, she has* 
tened to devote to her alTectionate Anne. 
It was nearly sunset. The sky had been all 
day overspread with clouds, which had im- 
parted their contents to the earthy now in 
dense vapor and now in heavy rains; but 
just as the sun approached the horizon, they 
opened away to afford a view of the more than 
usual beauty of the scene. The bright rays 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 21 

shooe through the mist which still rested upon 
the surface of the ground^ concealing the 
more distant features of the landscape, until 
the small portion which surrounded the place 
appeared like a calm little isle of beauty amid 
a sea of refulgence. Looking beyond the 
line of woodland which marked its circumfer- 
ence, one could almost imagine, through the 
varying, highly tinted clouds, an avenue to 
the celestial city ; golden plains, and crystal 
streams, and hills of mellow hue, made up 
theoudine of this lovely representation, beau- 
tiful as if portrayed by an angel's pencil. 

Anne was sitting in silent contemplation, 
by a window whose western aspect command- 
ed a view of .this splendid scene. She had 
laid aside her work to enjoy a few moments' 
reflection, at that time which, more than any 
other, seems adapted to this spiritual exercise ; 
promises of a future life, which she had just 
been reading from the book whose holy pages 
were open before her, rested soothingly upon 
2 



22 procrastination; or, 

her mind ; thoughts of the blessed atonement, 
by our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, har- 
monized sweetly with the scene, while in 
its calmness and loveliness seemed blended 
an assurance of a resurrection to a more glo- 
rious existence hereafter. 

In usual familiarity, Maria had opened the 
door without knocking, and hesitating, apolo- 
gized for interrupting her meditations, by say- 
ing she had come to bid her " good bye," as 
sl^,e was to leave in the morning. " It is a 
very pleasant interruption, I assure you," said 
Anne, as she seated her by her side, on the 
low white window stool, " I was at that mo- 
ment thinking of you." 

" I am indeed flattered, Anne, if one so 
good as you could think of me at such a 
time," said she, motioning toward the rich 
prospect before them. 

" If you value the compliment according to 
my goodness," replied Anne, " it will be at 
best a poor afiair ; but if according to the love 



UABIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 7£6 

I have for you, it will be all that you could 
ask. So you are to leave in the morning ? " 

" Yes ; and I could not go without seeing 
you once more, notwithstandmg you cannot 
sympathize in my joy. I do regret exceed- 
bgly, Anne, that I must so long forego the 
pleasure of your society ; in this I am very 
selfish, for I am never with you but my mind 
is raised to better things. May I not hope 
that you will write to me whenever you can- 
not be more worthily employed ? Father 
will be in the city often on business, and I 
shall always look for something fix>m you. 
Do not give me up because I do not feel, like 
yourself, that I can resist the pleasures I so 
much anticipate. Though I am not a Chris- 
tian, I love you better for being so. Gay as 
I am, I never knew an individual truly pious 
whom I did not almost envy. I suppose you 
will wonder at my inconsistency." 

" When I remember, Maria, that your path 
in life has been with those who know not the 



24 PROCRASXmATION ; OR, 

Saviour, I do not wonder that you are not a 
Christian ; but when I perceive how well you 
know the right way, and sometimes appear to 
have almost learned the language of a disci- 
ple, I do wonder that you are not one indeed ; 
and of this I was just thinking when you 
came in. Watching the last rays of sun* 
light as they faded away, there came so viv- 
idly before my mind the contrast of our fleet- 
ing life, compared with the duration of that 
glorious orb ; and then, too, compared with 
that never, never ending eternity before us, 
that, strong in my weakness, and exalted by 
my humiliation, I think I could have stood 
unfaltering before the most alluring tempta- 
tions ; and I inwardly prayed that upon you 
might rest the same truth-revealing light; 
that now as you are entering again upon the 
unreal charms of earth, you might thus see 
the frailty of that to which you cling in hope 
of happiness." 

" It is a holy hour," said Maria, ^fter a 



MABIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 25 

pause ; " I often gaze mechanically upon such 
beauty, when there comes no language to my 
soul, for my mind is filled with far other 
thoughts ; but sometimes, when my heart is 
right, I have felt emotions like what you have 
described, and would have given worlds to 
know that I should be one of that blessed 
company, where there is no more disappoint- 
ment or trouble, and where I know my dear 
mother is gone ; but then the way of repent- 
ance and the sacrifice of pleasure appears so 
dark and cheerless, that I fear I shall never ob- 
tain heaven if it be necessary to purchase it 
in this way." 

" My dear Maria, I must speak plainly to 
you. Many weeks are between us and our 
next meeting ; God only knows what will be 
their history." 

" Tell me all you think, Anne, and I will 

promise sacredly to remember it when I can 

no more see and talk with you," said Maria; 

and she shuddered as she looked upon her 

2* 



26 PROCRASTINATION ; OR^ 

pale countenance, and thought ere she should 
return from her visit, Anne might be in the 
grave. 

" Desires for religion, Maria, never benefit 
us, unless they are attended by an effort to 
obtain it. I know that there are moments 
when mere poetic feeling may be excited by 
outward circumstances, and, added to our de- 
sire for happiness, lead us on until our own 
spirits are deceived, and we imagine ourselves 
really anxious for that strict purity of heart 
which can alone prepare us for heaven ; 
while, at the same time, an offer of that great 
salvation, made in humble, unadorned lan- 
guage, in no way addressed to our idea of the 
beautiful, would be rejected, nay, even spum- 
ed from our thoughts. Is it not so ? " 

Maria made no reply. 

" Perhaps we are by the mighty ocean ; 
we gaze upon its dark, tossing billows, with 
emotions too sublime for utterance ; we may 
stand upon the shore and glance upon its 



MARIA LOUISA WIN8L0W. 527 

calm surface, while scarcely a sound is audi- 
ble as its last ripple pauses at our feet ; the 
immensity overshadows us, thoughts of om- 
nipotence and eternity swell our bosoms, and 
tears, which we cannot explain, fill our eyes. 
But these are no tokens of the state of the 
heart ; it is not religious joy or holy adoration 
which kindles within us. An attachment to 
the cross of Christ distinguishes that true joy, 
and gratitude for redemption from sin must 
ever mingle with our adoration." 

Maria passed her hand across her eyes, but 
made no answer. A sigh, which she endeav- 
ored to suppress, betrayed an inward acknowl- 
edgment that she had thus mistaken her own 
heart. Anne proceeded. 

" On an evening like this, Maria, we may 
watch the last rays of the setting sun, and as 
the twilight gathers gently around us, there 
comes a calm upon our spirits, like the falling 
dew, so pure it seems ; and while involunta- 
rily we are ready to raise our eyes and say, 



28 PKOCRASTINATION ; OR, 

" Our Father ! " our hearts — alas, for us ! — 
are far from him, and we should find our- 
selves unwilling to perform the least of his ' 
requirements. No, Maria, without a new 
heart it is impossible to please God." 

" Now, Anne," said Maria, " shall I tell 
you, for the first time, that I do not feel the 
necessity of a new heart, and have doubted 
the importance of so much sorrow, and regret, 
and sacriQce. How many amiable persons I 
have known, whose lives would appear almost 
unexceptionable even to you, Anne, so Icind, 
so benevolent ; and yet I never heard them 
say any thing of what you call a " new 
heart," nor do I believe they had experienced 
the change of which you so often speak. I 
cannot think that such will be for ever with 
the wicked, in punishment. They had no 
fellowship with vice here — they can have 
none hereafter." 

" The Bible repeatedly assures us, Maria, 
that we have not within us naturally a single 



MAIUA LOUISA WINSLOW. 29 

tendency to obey the commands of God. 
We may acquire those refinements of feeling 
which will lead us to look upon vice with dis- 
gust, while we remember not the odiousness 
of sin in the »ght of God. We may cherish 
those kind sentiments towards our fellow-be- 
ings which will lead us to seek their good, to 
be benevolent as we have means, without one 
desire to do this for the glory of God I He 
who reads the heart will find within all those 
passions at variance with him which would 
for ever exclude us from his presence. Then, 
when death has robbed us of those acquire- 
ments, as of a borrowed garment, where must 
the spirit find its home ? Can it be that those 
who have thought little of his adorable char^ 
acter here, are prepared at once to join in the 
song of praise to his attributes ? Can it be 
that those whose who have not made bis glo- 
ry an object of desire here, will be raised, to 
rejoice in its manifestations and participate in 
its fullness in the world to come ? '' 



30 PROCBASTINATION ; OR^ 

Maria became uneasy ; their interview was 
now getting to be more solemn than she ex- 
pected; every moment she remained, every 
word Anne uttered, carried double reproof to 
her mind ; she had been long resisting the same 
convictions from her own soul in silence ; and 
Anne's earnest manner of enforcing them gave 
her no opportunity of refuge from them, save 
by making her escape. She drew her cloak 
around her, tied and untied her bonnet two or 
three times, then rose to leave. , 

^^ You give me no assurance, Maria," said 
Anne, gently, " that you approve what I have 
said." 

Maria made no reply ; tears gathered in 
her eyes, and she moved towards the door ; 
then turning again, she siud, ^' Tdo approve it, 
Anne, I know it must be all true ; but you 
cannot tell how well I love the world; how 
I delight in the idea of once more enjoying 
its amusements ! You condemn them ; but, 
pardon me, Anne, you have never known 



MAMA LOUISA WIN5L0W. 31 

them; you are not now tempted by 
them." 

"But, Maria," said Anne, raising her 
hand impressively, and leaning towards her ; 
" Maria, are you happy ? " 

"Why, yes, comparatively so, perhaps 
and am hoping to be ;" replied Maria. 

" I endeavor, Maria, to appreciate the sac- 
rifice you must make to become a Christian ; 
but would you think a trifling sacrifice any- 
thing in purchase for a world ! I know you 
must deny yourself some pleasures ; yet they 
are but ^ for a season.' O fear, lest adorned 
with knowledge and accomplishments, you be 
found like the fig-tree on the way-side to 
Jerusalem ; — ^rich in its robe of leaves, in sun* 
shine and in shower it stood, verdant and 
gay — ^all which could delight the eye; but 
when the Saviour paused for fruit, none was 
there. Barren midst all its blessings ! Tou 
remember the rest. His word came with 
blight upon the firuitless tree. Before his 



32 FROCRA.STINATION ; OR; 

condemDatioD the luxuriant foliage fell wither- 
ing to the ground; and left the despoiled 
branches shorn of all their glory." 

They separated with sadness. Maria to 
engage again in her busy anticipations of 
pleasure. Anne to seek for her the blessing 
and protection of Grod through her way of 
teniptaticMi. 

O; could a vision of the ev^ts of the few 
weeks before them have been revealed, what 
would have been their emotions ! Wisdom 
which we cannot sufficiently adore, directs our 
way over the " enchanted ground " of life, and 
while it mercifully conceals from us the future 
dispensations of Providence^ warns us to be 
found ever ready. 



HARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 33 



CHAPTER IV. 

Long and wishfully did Maria wait for the 
dawn of day, and ere its faint light had ren- 
dered objects visible, she was moving about 
with bustling activity, doing again and again 
the same things she had done before, making 
her quick footsteps heard from room to room, 
leaving every door open through which she 
passed, now and then to close suddenly after 
her, with a report which could not fail of dis- 
turbing those who were seeking " a little more 
sleep and a little more slumber." 

^'How strange that father should be sp 
late ! " exclaimed she^ ^' I should think that 
the very idea that he will be in the city this 
evening would have awaked him before this. 
We shall certainly be too late ! " 

She looked at her watch, it was six o'clock. 
They were not to leave until ten ; four hours, 
and nothing in the world which she could 
3 



34 pbocrastination; or, 

think of to do, to facilitate their departure. 
Moment after moment went by, and she 
counted off their flight as gladly as if they 
had been well employed, or would return 
again when needed. 

Her patience at last began to fail before so 
long watching, so that poor Netta, the col- 
ored girl, who had lived a favorite in the family 
since Maria was a babe, scarcely escaped some 
manifestations of fretfulness. 

" How very slow you are about your work 
this morning ! " said she, as Netta appeared 
with the breakfast things ; " I began to think 
you were not coming at all." 

"Why, never see the like. Miss," said 
Netta, " it is you that are in a hurry and not 
me who—" 

" That is what I say, Netta. Tou are not 
in a hurry certainly, but are as slow and stu- 
pid, as if nothing was the matter. I have 
been up these two hours ! " 

"Well, Miss," said Netta, with a deep 



MARIA LOUISA WIKSLOW. 35 

stgb, as she placed the last dbh upon the 
'''Nfeible, " Fse glad, Miss, that you are going, 
but don't like to have you be in such a hurry 
and flustration about it, as it were. I always 
think people will be disappointed, and per- 



" O, psha, Netta ! don't tell me such things 
now. You always have something sober to 
say just in the wrong time for a sober thing 
to be said." 

"Well, Miss Maria, Ixan't help it. I 
hope you will have a good time ; but, Miss 
Maria, your mother was so good. Do you 
remember how she prayed for you that morn- 
ing she died ? and I was thinking I wished I 
could see you as much in earnest to prepare 
for death, and to go to the eternal city as you 
are about this now." 

"Well, well, Netta," said Maria, as her 
eyes filled with tears, and her impatience van- 
ished away ; " don't speak of mother this 
morning. You are very good and pious, no 



36 procrastination; or, 

doubt; I love you very much, after all. 
Now set the plates, before the done till father 
comes, aud here is a nice little shawl for you ; 
wear it, and take comfort in it, and think of 
me every day till I return." 

" Why, never see the like, Miss ! how very 
kind you are to me. You do look so much 
like your dear mother, that's gone to heaven ! 
she used to—" 

" Go, Netta, see if you can find father ; tell 
him every thing is ready." 

Just then, the door opened, and Mr. Wins- 
low limped slofi^ly into the room. 

" O father, you have not got the rheuma- 
tism this morning, I hope," said Maria, and 
her expectations sank alarmingly. 

^^ It is a matter which I cannot doubt my- 
self, Maria. I have been assured of it all 
night by the pain in my limbs, and this chilly 
November air will not tend much to relieve 
it, I fear." 

^^ How sorry I am ! shan't I heat some 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 37 

spirit, and bathe your ankle ? It will be better 
soon, perhaps. I do not think it will be very 
cold to-day. How unfortunate! I am so 
sorry that you have so much pain ! " 

" Yes, Maria ; but your pain of disappoint- 
ment is worse than my rheumatism ; don't you 
think so ? What shall I prescribe for you 1 
A little resignation applied to ^the heart is 
very good, then bind it all up in patience, 
there will be a certain and immediate 
cure." 

Maria did not make much reply^but looked 
very much as if she had no faith in the pres- 
cription, and little intention of availing herself 
of this opportunity to put it to the test of ex- 
periment. The breakfast hour passed away 
somewhat silently, as Mr. Winslow was too 
uncomfortable from the rheumatic pains to be 
very social, and Maria was unwilling to say 
much, lest whatever the subject might be, it 
would be too strongly tinged with her disap- 
pointment ; besides, she had a secret hope 
3* 



38 procrastination; or, 

that the sun, which was beginning to send its 
bright reflection in upon the ceiling, would 
tempt him to forget his pain and undertake 
the journey. 

Netta, whose desire to please had received 
a new impulse from the comfortable little 
shawl just added to her dress, was passing 
about from chair to chair, and room to room, 
with astonishing officiousness and alacrity, and 
although she accomplished little — for little 
was to be accomplished — she still persevered 
in her activity, occasionally manifesting her 
interest by a deep sigh, whenever she ob- 
served the anxious and troubled movements 
of Maria. 

After the table was removed, and the fire 
replenished, Mr. Winslow called for the 
morning's paper, which had just arrived, and 
seated himself to its perusal, unheeding the 
sunlight, upon the influence of which Maria 
had so much relied. Slowly she arose from 
an attitude of thoughtfulness,^ collected her 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 39 

materials of employment for the day, and 
commenced reluctant operations. 

" If I must be defeated by circumstances, 
I will not be overcome by suUenness," thought 
she ; and pursued her work with laudable 
perseverance, astonished at the amount of 
real enjoyment insured by a cheerful com- 
pliance with apparently adverse events. Her 
impatience had been gradually giving place to 
reason and affection, so that she now thought 
herself more nobly happy in calmly sacrificing 
her own wishes to the comfort of her father, 
than she would have been in their most com- 
plete fulfilment. She again drew aroupd her 
the delightful scene she had still in reserve, and 
pictured to herself again and again the moment 
of her arrival at her sister's — the agreeable 
surprise to them all, as she was going a day 
or two sooner than she anticipated, — ^the cheer- 
fully lighted parlors, — the affectionate kiss of 
her sister, — the bright morning to succeed 
that evening of unalloyed pleasure, — the fa- 



40 procrastination; or, 

miliar promenade, and welcome visits; — ^all 
came vividly before her " mind's eye," until 
her head was dizzy with their quick succes- 
sion, and her heart palpitated almost audibly 
as the various emotions travelled rapidly 
through her breast; for calmly as these 
thoughts came on, ere they circled round, her 
interest rose to highest feverish excitement, 
and her fingers more industriously plied the 
needle, to keep pace, until a long breath be- 
trayed the exhaustion produced, and recalled 
her thoughts again to commence their busy 
evolutions. 

" Party for ever, and not principle ! " ex- 
claimed Mr. Winslow indignantly, "such 
headlong measures will ruin the prospects of 
the license bill ; " and snapping his fingers, 
started impatiently up, and hurried lightly 
across the room, forgetful of his rheumatism. 
" I wish every one of these recreants and 
office-seekers (0 what a pain !) had the 
rheumatism. Why, Maria, what is the mat- 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 41 

ter? your cheeks are as flushed as if you had 
been guilty of such desertion, or rather, as 
they should be ifyoM had." 

" Why nothing is the matter, father ; I was 
only thinking very busily." 

"Ah yes, I see, Maria, it is an attack of the 
Boston fever, A ride will do you good, so 
go and prepare yourself, and we will try the 
effect of the sea-breeze." 

" Why, father ! you do not mean to go 
out to-day ! " said Maria, really solicitous ; 
"see how the clouds have blended them- 
selves all over the face of the sky, and what 
a gray hue is spread around; it will snow 
long before we can arrive in town ; you will 
surely take cold." 

" Yes, I think there will be snow soon ; 
but go get ready ; put on your new cloak and 
your old cloak, your new shoes and your over 
shoes. I will take the buflfalo robe, for I 
must be at the caucus this evening in old 
Faneuil, so make haste." 



42 PBOCRASTINATION ; OR, 

" Netta, Netta ! " said Maria, "run up to 
the closet in my chamber, and bring my fur 
shoes and over-shoes — quick! I am going 
right away." 

"Why, never see the like. Miss!" res- 
ponded Netta, unrolling her sleeves. 

"And, Netta," added Maria, as the girl 
was closing the door, " bring my muff and 
tippet from the band-box ; and Netta, Netta, 
go into father's room, and bring his wrapper 
and hat, and the phial of opodeldoc on the 
shelf, and a roll of jQannel bandages from the 
first drawer in the wardrobe, and my angola 
gloves from my bureau — and — that is all." 

" Why, never see the like, Miss ! " ex- 
claimed Netta, bewildered with the messages 
and the hurry ; " why, who would have 
thought of your going this morning? " 

" Well, I for one," said Maria, " but fa- 
ther is in great haste — ^go quick." 

" Let me see — what is it you want ? O, 
now I remember. Your father's hat and 



MARIA LODISA WINSLOW. 43 

wrapper from your band-box, your shoes and 
the opodeldoc from the wardrobe, your gloves 
and his flannel drawers— and — " 

" My stars, Netta, what ails you ? Away 
with you — ^you must find out when you get 
up stairs." 

After many quick steps, and turns, and 
sentences meant for explanation, which as 
much required explanation themselves, all the 
desired articles were evolved from their con- 
fusion, and brought together; and Mr. Wins- 
low and his daughter were unexpectedly on 
their way to Boston. 



■'» 4 «^» > "> ^ 



CHAPTER V. 



Mr. WiNSLOW and Maria were just in a 
mood to ride harmoniously at a quick pace. 
Political enthusiasm held the rehs and ap- 
plied the whip for him, and delight that every 



44 FBOCRASTINATION ; OR, 

Step brought them nearer to her early homey 
filled the mind of Maria. Soon after noon, a 
storm of snow commenced, and driven by a 
north east wind, set full in their faces — ^the 
wheels dragged more and more heavily as the 
storm increased, so that long ere they ap- 
preached the vicinity of Boston, night had 
closed around them. 

For the last hour neither had interrupted 
the silence, but wheu the many lights of the 
city glimmered upon them through the drift- 
ing sleet, and the horse's hoofs struck upon 
the adjacent bridge, as if those lights had en- 
kindled slumbering emotions, and that familiar 
sound awakened kindred sensations, they both 
uttered a hearty welcome to the prospect, if 
such it might be called. Rheumatism and 
politics were forgotten for the moment — the 
old gentleman laughed and planned with 
his daughter, and the very horse, perching his 
ears and quickening his weary steps, testified 
his sympathetic joy. 



VARiA Louisa winslomt. 45 

They drove to the door of Mr. Finney's 

residence in C street, and alighted ; after 

ringing two or three times, a servant present- 
ed himself, and surveying their snowy dress 
and chilled awkward gait, carelessly led the 
way into the parlor. No person was there ; 
the fire was nearly extinguished, and the 
lamps were not lighted. 

"Tell Mrs. Finney that her fiither and 
sister are here," said Mr. Winslow. 

" O sir^" said the servant bowing obse- 
quiously and stumbling against a taboret, 
" Mrs. Finney, sir, has gone to a party, and 
will not return till about twelve. I will send 
James to light the lamps and kindle the fire 
he has so neglected. Please be seated ;" 
and he vanished out of the room. 

" Caroline is beside herself to go to a party 
this evening," said Mr. Winslow. 

" O she will not be exposed to the storm>" 
said Maria, " 1 wonder where she is gone, I 
should like to be with her at all events ; per 
4 



46 pbocbastination; or, 

baps she is at Mr. Williams's, or may be at 
Mr. Sandford's ; they have removed into a 

new house in M place, which he has 

built — a splendid establishment ; or, now, I 
presume she is at Mr. Bartlett's ; this is his 
birth-night, and they never fail to keep it in 
tbb way. What splendid parties they al- 
ways give ! " 

The servant entered with the lights, and 
Maria observed a note of invitation, unsealed, 
upon thecentre table. " Mr. and Mrs. Wells 
request the favor of Mr. and Mrs. Finney's 
company on Friday eve." " Who can Mr, 
and Mrs. Wells be ? That is a new name. 
They are not very genteel people, I should 
think, from the folding of the note and placing 
of the seal." 

*^ You must be very skilful in your obser- 
vations to know that, Maria ; how came you 
in possession of this wonderful tact ? I con- 
fess I do not approve of judging of character 
by circumstances which can weigh nothing." 



MARIA LOUISA WIN8L0W. 47 

" Neither do I approve of judging charac- 
ter by such things, father, but 1 think they 
are not genteel." 

"I think no one genteel, Maria, became 
they happen to understand all this superficial 
etiquette, have fine establishments, give splen- 
did entertainments, and have their dress axw 
ranged according to the latest hour of the 
latest fashion. This often constitutes the ^ gen- 
teel ' individual, in fiuthionable phrase. Do 
not, Maria, fall into this error. A lady or a 
gentleman of high moral standing, of high 
intellectual worth, is genteel, and no others, 
even though they may not have the means to 
secure this rank, by flourishing with the fash- 
ionable, and most likely, are without the de- 
sire to do so^" 

" That principle is very much like some of 
Farmer Dayton's ideas," said Maria, laugh- 
ing. 

" Then it is indisputably good, Maria. I 
am happy to hold the same opinion with that 



48 PBOCKASTINATION ; OK, 

genihman. I have mingled with society in 
the city in all its changes, when a fashibn has 
been at its height, and * so genteel' and ^ so 
expedient, ' that all must adopt it ; tod then 
when all had adopted it, 'twas no longer gen- 
-teel orexpe&nt ; isomethiDg else equally fan- 
<siful must take its pl4ce. Now what is all 
this mrorth, to o&e who thinks reality prefera- 
ble to appearance? 1 never see a lady 
diiessed io studied fiisbion, but I think she has 
little time to devote to any thing beside. 
Give me the aknple and the useful combined, 
and there is eaotigh to indicate good sense and 
good taste. For instance, there is Elizabeth 
Lathrop.'' 

A servant entered to announce supper, and 
so ended the conversation. It was past eight 
o'clock. Mr. Winslow hastened to the meet- 
ing at Faneuil Hall, which had so attracted 
him to the city, and Maria returned to the 
parlor to wait for her sister. Every thing 
was sSent, save now and then the rattling of 



MABIA LOUISA WmSLOW. 49 

a carriage as it rolled over the pavements, and 
the loud storm wind sweeping the snow 
quickly past. 

An hour thus flew by, and Mr. Winslow 
returned; another came and went, and ere 
long Mr. and Mrs. Finney entered^ They 
met with overflowing joy ; a thousand things 
were to be said of events which had trans- 
pired since their last meeting, many inquiries 
were to be made, and many plans to be 
proposed and settled, ere they could think of 
sleep. 

" What has become of Aunt Mary ?" said 
Mr. Winslow; ^'have you heard firom her 
this season ? " 

" Yes," said Mrs. Finney, with a smile, 

'^ she sent me word last week, that if it would 

be agreeable to me, she would spend the 

winter with me, provided she could possibly 

make arrangements to come. I shall expect 

her in a few days.'' 

There was little comment followed this in- 
4# 



so pnocsA«TiirATioK ; or, 

jbrmatioD, but aobdier smile wentaround, the 
peculiar expression of which indicated that 
the announcement was not the most satisfac- 
tory, 

<^ It is 80 droll there is no telling/' said 
Maria, "as the poor old lady herself would 
say ; she is always crossing my path ; you 
know she was here the fortnight which I 
passed with you in thesufumer ; but she is so 
good that we itmst mftke her happy as possi- 
ble." 

" Speaking of Aunt Mary, reminds me of 
another of my iavorites, Elizabeth Lathrop/' 
said Mr. Winslow, " is she still teaching that 
primary school ? " 

"No, she has left,*' said Mrs. Finney, "a 
little girl who comes occasionally to bring 
articles from the laundress, told me the other 
day with tears, that Miss Lathrop was sick, 
and would not be well for a long time, if ever. 
She said something was the matter with her 
limbs, she did not know what, but she could 
not sew or do any thmg." 



IflUtIA LODISA wnrsLow. 51 

"Poor girl!" exclaimed Mr. Winsldw, 
" she ought never to have gone into that school, 
ieeble as she was, but she cOuId not do other- 
wise, I suppose, for her support* Where is 
she now ? " 

" She was boarding in B street awhile, 

under the care of Dr. ; but the ex- 

pense was probably beyond her means. I 
have since heard that she is in the hospital.'' 

" Poor girl ! " again exclaimed Mr. Wins- 
low, ^^ is it possible. CanJioe, you have not 
been to see her?" 

" I was not much acquainted with her, you 
know, father, and some people of sensibility, 
under unfortunate circumstances are so deli- 
cate about meeting former friends, that I did 
not like to intrude upon her"." 

Mr. Winslow sighed. 

^' She possesses one of the most limiable 
characters in the circle of my acquaintance," 
said he, ^^ and has sensibility and delicacy 
indeed ; but the visit of a friend, Caroline, 



52 procrastination; or, 

with such kindness and propriety as yott could 
visit her, I am sure must be most gratifying to 
her, situated as she is ; it would be mercy and 
happiness intruding upon misfortune. Let 
me beg of you, Maria, to go to her often, and 
go soon. A call early as possible after your 
arrival, will be to her, worth two or three, 
after some days of neglect." 

" I shall go immediately," said Maria ; " I 
am anxious to see and assure her of my re- 
gard for her. I shall take my work and sit 
by her many a long afternoon ; I can read to 
her, and say a thousand things to amuse and 
gratify her, and make her forget her affliction. 
Nothing would afford me so much pleasure as 
to contribute to her comfort and happiness." 

And in the kindness of her heart an abun- 
dance of devices occurred to her which she 
thought should be her first business to fulfil, 
to benefit the unfortunate young lady. 

A pause ensued, when s6me political ques- 
tion was suggested by Mr. Finney, in which 



tfiJUA LOVUiA WINaM>W. 53 

Mr. Winslow warmly engaged, and the ladies, 
without fear of interrupting their interest, had 
quickly passed from the subject which a mo- 
ment before had so awakened their sympa- 
thies to one which it is to be feared often re- 
ceives quite as much time and attention. 

" What shall I get for a hat this winter, 
Caroline ? " asked Maria. 

"A great variety are worn," replied Mrs. 
Finney. ^^ I like velvet best. I think a dark 
green velvet, with a bird of Paradise feath^, 
is the most simple and genteel ; it would cor- 
respond well with your pelisse if you are in- 
tending to wear that another season." 

'^ Yes, I did intend to ; I have worn it one 
winter, and it still looks very handsome. Are 
satins fashionable? Mine, you remember, 
was a rich piece ; besides the trouble of plan- 
ning and selecting, perhaps it would be wrong 
to lay that aside and purchase another." 

'^ Yes ; and it can be altered to be a little 
more in mode; the sleeves should not be 



54 PB0CRA8TINATI0N ; OR, 

plaited down as low as last year ; your cape is 
round ; they wear them pointed, which I think 
decidedly preferable ; the change will be slight, 
and Miss C can easily accomplish it" 

'^This cannot be done to-morrow ; I must 
wear it as it is Sabbath day. I am sorry, for 
I do like to have every thing in order, when 
I go to Church." 

A thought flashed across her mind as she 
spoke this, which sent a blush to her cheek, 
and a moment's conviction to her heart, but 
she did not wait to heed it. 

We will not detain our readers with all the 
conversation of that first evening of their 
happy meeting — it was long past midnight 
ere they could resolve to forget the pleasure 
of each other's society in sleep. 



MARIA LOUISA WIHSLOW. 55 



CHAPTER VI. 

The moniiDg shone forth bright and still — 
the storm had passed away, and left no trace 
upon the calm blue sky. A white robe of 
snow was resting unsullied and almost un- 
trodden upon the streets around. As the sun 
lighted upon the white roofs and the little 
particles of hail glistened like myriads of dia- 
monds, Maria felt inexpressible emotions of 
delight at the lovely aspect, and an involun- 
tary desire to raise her heart in gratitude to 
God. So much is it the tendency of the soul 
to adore Him in all that is good and beauti- 
ful. She remembered the words of Anne, 
and kneelbg down attempted a prayer that 
her sins might be forgiven, that she might be 
kept from temptations stronger than she could 
resist, and that she might be prepared to 
serve God. She rose from her knees and 
walked towards the window, and her mind 



56 PBOGRASTIIVATION ; OB, 

was more disturbed and restless than she had 
known it before. iShe thought she had at* 
tempted to pray for what she had been in- 
formed, and was convinced, she most needed 
— ^that her sins might be forgiven ; and yet 
she knew they were not ; she felt no emo- 
tions of love for, or trust in, God, which she 
knew she should enjoy if she were pardoned. 
She had prayed to be saved from tempta- 
tions ; she looked within, and found no reso- 
lutions to resist them should they be offered, 
and she was unwilling to make any. ^' Can 
I," thought she, " expect that God will do 
all this for me, which I not only have not a 
determination to keep myself, but do not* re- 
ally desire that he should keep me from yield- 
ing to them?*' She had prayed that she 
might be prepared to serve God — ^to serve 
God! what a thought! — ^and as the words 
passed through and through her mind, it was 
the first time she had ever fully realized their 
import* She repeated them again and again, 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 57 

with increasing emotions of dread. To serve 
God! Canldoit? Will I do it? Ifldo, 
I cannot, must not, serve the world. What 
is it to serve the world ? and what will be its 
reward? It is to follow its fashions, to love 
its spirit of lightness and vanity ; to seek its 
pleasures, forgettmg God; and the reward 
will be only these " pleasures of sin for a 
season," and then the future, the dark, un- 
ending future ! 

To serve God will be to remove all these, 
all these — ^the costly fashions, the vain pur- 
suits, the friends who are most devoted to 
them ; and become an humble, self-denying 
Christian. The reward will be a Christian's 
happiness to compensate for every act of self- 
denial, to soothe every moment of sorrow and 
despondency; it will be to have the friend- 
ship of angels, communion with God, and an 
eternal blissful reward hereafter. ^' Can I do 
it? Will I do it?" were the questions 
which again presented themselves. What 
5 



58 PROCRASTINATION ; OR, 

Strange inconsistency to hesitate between 
points so unequal ! Yet she hesitated and 
wavered, and thought — ^^'I cannot decide 
noi£^-H5ometime I surely will. When I re- 
turn home there will be nothing to prevent." 
So easy it is to think we escape from respon- 
sibility and duty by procrastinating its fulfil- 
ment to some more convenient season, forget- 
ting that the very trials and circumstances by 
which we are surrounded when the convic- 
tion comes to our minds, may all be means of 
good to us ; if heavy crosses are in the way, 
these will make us more decided ; if oppos- 
ing circumstances offer themselves, they may 
increase our courage and strength, while we 
are assured that we can do all things " through 
Christ." 

Maria was still leaning against the window ; 
she felt dissatisfied, and was again about to 
balance the account, when the breakfast bell 
rang; she turned to leave the room, and 
paused ; first came a wish that she could then 



MABIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 59 

decide ; nes:t a wish that her thoughts had not 
been so much interested ; and then a resolu- 
tion some time to give more solemn and unin- 
terrupted attention to it, and the subject passed 
from her mind ; she soon appeared thought- 
less and gay at the breakfipst table, as if nothing 
had alarmed her fears, or broken with warning 
voice upon her dreams of happiness. 



CHAPTER VII. 

" Will you go with me this morning to 
see Elizabeth?" asked Mr. Winslow, as he 
observed his daughters busily preparing to go 
out. 

" I think not, father," said Maria; " Caro- 
line and I have some shopping which we 
wish to accomplish, and shall have no time ; 
I will accompany you on Monday, if we can 
be admitted." 



60 procrastination; or^ 

^^I must return home on Monday, but 
shall I tell her you will call then ? " said he. 

" Yes, sir," replied Maria, " and express 
to her my sorrow for her affliction in the most 
feeling manner ; tell her I am very desirous 
to see her, and shall come the first moment 



Mr. Winslow left them, and Mrs. Finney 
and Maria were soon with buoyancy taking 
their way to the principal streets. 

"Will you call at Mrs. Bartlett's this 
morning ? " said Mrs. Finney. 

" But shall we have time, Caroline ? " 

" O yes, if you please." 

" I believe it will not be best ; I thought 
we should not have time to go to the hospi- 
tal, and cannot find myself willing to make 
the first visit any where else. I know Eliza- 
beth would think much- of such an attention, 
though she would not require it." 

" O that, Maria, is quite another thing ; 
she would not expect that, with all your 



MABIA LOmSA WINSLOW. 61 

circle of acquaintances, you should go so 
much out of your way to visit her first of any. 
It is possible that you might not have been 
aditiitted this morning had you gone. That 
is no r^on why you should deprive yourself 
of this pleasure; we can call upon Mrs. 
Bartlett as we go down by the Common.'' 

"Have they removed, then?" inquired 
Maria. 

"Yes, they have a fine situation there. 
Really, you must go in ; they will think so 
much of your first visit upon them.'' 

Maria glanced up to the door as diey came 
near, and declined going in. 

" Yes, you must, if they are at home," 
said Mrs. Finney, and gaily pulled the bell. 

They were immediately shown into the 
parlor, where were Mrs. Bartlett and her 
daughter, with Mrs. Brooks, a plainly dressed, 
intelligent looking lady. 

"My dear Miss Winslow, I assure you 
I am delighted to see you once more in 
5* 



6S PROC&ASTIN'ATION ; OR, 

our small circle of friend?/' said Mrs. Bart- 
lett. . 

"I presume Mrs. Bartlett's number of 
friends is by no means small^" said Maria, 
" and if she honors me by adding my name 
to that favored list, I am indeed flattered." 

Mrs. Bartlett bowed smilbgly as she ac- 
cepted the compliment. ''Not very small, 
perhaps," replied she, *'yet I am ever ready 
to add to the number, when additions are so 
valuable acquisitions. Time devoted to my 
friends," said she, " I always thmk well em* 
ployed."^ 

" It certainly is so," said Mrs. Finney ; " I 
can ima^ne no situation more unhappy than 
with every other luxury, to be independent 
of them." 

" Very true ; there can be none except be- 
ing without the deifre handsomely to enter- 
tain them," said Mrs. Bartlett, glancing 
towards Mrs. Brooks, who, from principle, 
never gave large and showy parties. 



MABIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 63 

"Those who are without the ability or 
desire to entertain them in o. fashionable man- 
ner, are not always iso unfortunate as to feel 
themselves independent of their friends/' said 
Mrs. Brooks; ^^ although they can seldom 
claim a very wide circle, I have no doubt they 
have quite as much happmess, and may be 
really more useful to the world." 

^' But, Mrs. Brooks, you forget that by thus 
extending our acquaintance, we are extend- 
ing our mfluence, and increasing our useful- 
ness." 

" Is it a right influence, Mrs. Bartlett ? " 
said Mrs. Brooks ; " if not, instead of thus 
increasing our usefulness, we are spreading 
abroad a dangerous error, and lending our in- 
fluence to the side we ought to shun." 

" I should be very sorry to coincide with 
you in this respect, Mrs. Brooks, for I should 
bring myself under condemnation, while I 
believe you would safely escape ; you even 
decline all invitations to such assemblies." 



64 procrastination; or, 

"I do, conscientiously," replied Mrs. 
Brooks ; ^< I roust not give them ; it would 
be equally injudicious in me to accept them. 
To know that from two to five hundred dol- 
lars are often expended on such occasions for 
a few hours' frivolity, while the funds of 
many of our benevolent societies languish, 
and the poor around are suffering for bread, 
would induce me to turn fix>m such a scene, 
in which I may not be responsible, except by 
my influence in being one of the number;" 

" I must say, with a certain judge of whom 
I have read," said Mrs. Bartlett — 

^^ Don't say any more ; I must not be rea- 
soned out of my opinion in this way." 

" You have visited our city just in the 
right time. Miss Winslow," said Miss Bart- 
lett ; ^^ we are to have fine treats this winter 

at the Tremont ; Mr. , and Mrs. , 

and Miss , have each an engagement to 

appear this season. Of course you will be 
there often." 



MARIA L(>niSA wmsLow. 65 

" Perhaps I may," said Maria , " I have 
not yet decided; that is," continued she, 
blushing, at the simple manner in which she 
had related her thoughts, ^^ I presume I shall ; 
I feel as if I had new capacities for enjoyment 
since I have been so long rusticating," and 
she looked towards Mrs. Brooks. 

" I hope Mrs. Brooks has no objections to 
that place of amusement," said Mrs. Bart- 
lett. 

"I frankly acknowledge that I have," re- 
plied Mrs. Brooks ; " I have not passed an 
evening there for many, many months, and 
would on no account present myself agsdn 
within its walls." 

^^ I am surprised, Mrs. Brooks, to see one 
so well qualified to appreciate the refined and 
beautiful, falling so readily into common pre- 
judices. I hoped your good taste on this 
matter would have coincided with our wishes. 
I own I think your principles very exclusive, 
and cannot approve of taking from our com- 



66 PBOCRASTINATION ; OR/ 

muDity these tasteful and gratifying exhibi- 
tions." ^ 

^^I was aware, Mrs. Bartlett, that our 
opinions would differ widely here, because 
they differ so very widely upon a subject of 
which some deem it improper to speak in 
fashionable society — experimental religwn. 
Believing in the happy influence of that, and 
conscious of the high enjoyments it has to be- 
stow, I have no inclination for these exhibi* 
tions, and — ^pardon me — certainly think it de- 
cidedly wrong to indulge in them.'' 

This was ssud by Mrs. Brooks, in a soften- 
ed but decided tone of voice, and without 
raising her eyes fix)m the drawings she was 
contemplating. She knew that none of the 
company thought with her in this, and while 
she hesitated not to speak against what she 
was convinced was wrong, she wished to do 
it in a manner which would not appear too 
dictatorial. 

Mrs. Bartlett professed to understand noth- 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 67 

ing of a subject so sacred ; she had, she said, 
always been content to leave that to the opin- 
ions of others wiser and better than herself, 
and though she doubted not that her welfare 
was equally concerned, thought she should 
have a better opportunity of attending to it 
by and by. 

Maria was startled to hear the same objec- 
tion at fifty which she was urging at seven- 
teen, and could but think how uncertain were 
both of that future they were promising themf 
selves, or of any impressions of that neces- 
sary change, if ever the long procrastinated 
convenient period should arrive. 

Mrs. Bartlett felt the solemnity which was 
settlmg upon them, and with constrained light- 
ness urged Maria to accompany them to the 
theatre on Monday evening. *^ Now, if you 
decline," s^id she, "I shall charge Mrs. 
Brooks with having made a convert of you. 
We are to have a repetition of * La Somnam- 
bula ;' you must really take a seat with us.'' 



bo procrastination; or, 

Maria glanced towards Mrs. Brooks, (or 
although a sti'anger, she had already a high re- 
gard for her. Mrs. Brooks bad turned again 
to examine some drawings upon the centre- 
table, so that Maria could gather no particu- 
lar instruction from ber expressive counte- 
nance. 

Mrs. Bartlett urged, and Maria, at last, ac- 
cepted the invitation. 

The ladies soon withdrew. ^<I bad no 
idea that we were there so long," said Maria, 
looking at ber watch. " Mrs. Brooks is very 
interesting in conversation ; do you not think 
so, Caroline ? " 

" Yes, she is," replied Mrs. Finney ; " I 
wonder that she mingles no more with the 
world." 

" But she is much in society," said Maria, 
" you know that Mrs. Bartlett remarked, af- 
ter she left, that she highly valued her ac- 
quaintance, and that she had many friends 
whom she entertained b small social com- 



MjkRU LOUISA WINSLOW. 69 

panies, and that some of them were of the 
very first class.*' 

"Yes; and that would just attract Mrs. 
Bartlett's regard," said Mrs. Finney. 

" While ytm care for none of these things," 
said Maria, laughing. 

Time passed rapidly away whilst the la- 
dies were qomparing and selecting various ar- 
ticles, until it was long past noon, when, ev- 
ery thing chosen and arranged, they proceed- 
ed homeward. Mr. Winslow was awaiting 
their arrival. 

" Have you seen Elizabeth ? " inquired 
Maria. 

" Yes," replied Mr. Winslow ; " sit down 
by me, and 1 will tell you al]^ about it. I 
cannot do it while you are giving your atten- 
tion, in part, to those laces." 
6 



70 procrastination: or, 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Maria drew a taboret close to the rocking 
chair in which her father was seated, and, 
with sympathizing countenance, bent toward 
him to catch the details. 

" After I left you," began Mr. Winslow, 
<< I felt very an^sious about Elizabeth, fearing 
to find her so much enfeebled, as scarcely to 
endure the excitement which I supposed must 
follow the first momients of our interview, 
when she would be so painfully reminded of 
the striking contrast between her present sit- 
uation, and that of the time when I first saw 
her, when called to consult over the dying 
bed of her father — then, as you know, sur- 
rounded by every luxury and elegance which 
his fondness and apparently prosperous busi- 
ness could procure, for the indulgence of her- 
self and mother. But with his illness com- 
menced that mysterious course of providences, 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 71 

by which her naturally elevated character has 
become exalted and purified; until she seems 
now a being almost too perfect for this world. 

" As her father declined, I shall never for- 
get the devotedness with which she watched 
by his pillow day and night ; and while the 
Ming health of her mother, added to a high- 
ly nervous temperament, excluded her from 
thb constant watchfulness and care, Elizabeth, 
then only fifteen, attended both with assidui- 
ty and prudence seldom equalled in maturer 
years. I may have related these circum- 
stances to you before, but this appears to me 
a time particularly applicable to remember 
them. Had you seen and known her then, 
they would have dwelt upon your mind as 
now they do upon mine. How dark and 
strange that a spirit so pure should be called 
to pass so painful reverses 1 It must be all 
ordered in wisdom, though we understand it 
not. But I forgot myself. 

" My visits were firequent, and I never 



72 fbocrastination; ob, 

once found her from her father's side. I 
knew not that she was a Christian, and won- 
dered at the serenity which she mamtained 
in moments when he was in the greatest 
agony. The hour m which his spirit took its 
flight; I was there. She stood by his pillow, 
and retaining his hand in one of her's, with 
the other wiped from his forehead the cold 
sweat, fast as it gathered there, and often 
gently smoothed the damp grey locks upon 
his temples. It was evening. Her mother, 
overcome with the greatest agitation, had been 
removed £rom the room ; the nurse and ser- 
vant turned towards the window to avoid a 
view of the last struggle, in which they could 
affi)rd no relief. We alone were beside the 
dying man. For nearly an hour, as we stood 
there speechless, he had seemed quietly sleep- 
ing; at length, awaking, he looked around 
with an expression of returning intelligence, 
the only one which we had seen for days. 
' Dear Elizabeth,' said he, and he articulated 



MABIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 73 

with much dilSSiculty, ^ I am glad to see you 
are here — ^my — ever — ^kind— child ! ' Eliz- 
abeth stooped and kissed his damp forehead, 
while the first tears I had seen her shed, 
gushed forth and mingled with the dews of 
death upon his venerable head. She could 
not speak. < O !' continued he, ^ I have had 
a dreadful dream; I believe I have been 
sick.' 

" * Yes,' I replied, * and you are still very 
sick.' 

" * I feel better now,' said he, ' and have 
no pain, only Ism $o tired ! I cannot talk 
yet." 

'^ He turned his head upon the pillow, and 
thought appeared to be gone. A dark shad- 
ow came over his countenance ; he breathed 
irregularly. Again arousing himself for a 
moment—* 

"* Elizabeth,' said he, * I cannot see ; does 
It not smoke ? ' 

" * No, my dear father,' said she, bending 
6* 



74 procrastination; or, 

over him, as if she could not relinquish him ; 
^ you are passing through the mists of the 
dark valley — ^it is death ; it is death 1 ' 

" Too far gone from earth longer to under- 
stand its language, he neither uttered nor look- 
ed a reply. In a few moments no breath 
or pulse remained. She closed his eyes; 
again placed his hair about his forehead, and 
silently and calmly turned away. Her last 
duty to him was performed. I doubt not but 
the prayer and humble trust in God, with 
which she attended him, then went up to 
heaven, and gaiqed for her a re ward to come. 

" His property could not be satisfactorily 
settled until about a year after her mother's 
death, when it was ascertained that, though 
much had been expected, scarcely any re- 
mained for Elizabeth. I supposed that there 
would have been a considerable amount, and 
though not knowing the circumstances until 
Elizabeth informed me of them to-day, have 
more recently feared there could be very lit- 



MABIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 75 

tie, or she would not be compelled, with her 
delicate constitution, to have taken charge of 
that primary school. She remarked that she 
was satisfied that all should be as it was, and 
grateful that the settlement of her father's 
affiurs had not been completed during her 
mother's life ; for although, as she said, she 
had dispensed with almost every indulgence,* 
she had the comfort of supposing that, after 
awhile, enough would be received to render 
Elizabeth independent of so laborious a task. 
" My heart aches for the poor girl," con- 
tinued Mr. Winslow, "when I think what a 
trial it must be to her sensitive nature to be 
so dependent upon the charity of a public in** 
stitution ; but she appears with most becom- 
ing propriety and cheerfulness. She is pale 
and emaciated, and asked if I did not think 
it was from want of exercise, as she has not 
been able to walk across the floor for nearly 
five weeks. It may be that in part, but her 
health is very poor, and her limbs are all 



76 PROCBASTINATION ; OK, 

much diseased; it is uncertain what is the 
nature of the complaint^ or how it will termi- 
nate. She inquired after you with as much 
affection and tenderness as if you had been 
the sick girl instead of herself/' 

Maria blushed deeply, and her eyes filled 
with tears ; ^^ I will go and see her this af- 
ternoon; nothing shall prevent me/' said 
she. 

^^ You cannot have access to her, I find, 
this afternoon," said her father; *^ and if you 
could, it would not be best ; she is in a weak 
state, and I fear it would be too much for 
her at present^ You can see her on Monday, 
and each succeeding day. I hope you will 
not fail. Again I urge you to see her often ; 
go in with sisterly afi^tion and simplicity ; 
your own kind heart will instruct you how 
to avoid every thing, in word or manner, 
which could make her feel the disparity in 
your atuation; even in dress be cautious. 
Talk with her, if she be able, of all which 



MABIA LOUISA WIN9L0W. 77 

can in any way relate to her, and say little of 
your every-day interests and amusements. 

"Avoid, in fine, every thing trivial ; it would 
be as much out of place as artificial flowers 
around her bedside. Remember the keenly 
feeling heart before you, and although she 
might conceal from you any wound which 
may be made, yet such will be easily made^ 
and so deeply that after kindness cannot heal 
it." 

" I hope I shall remember all that you 
have said," replied Maria ; " I would not em- 
bitter one moment of her already too bitter 
life for any consideration." 

" I do not think you will, Maria," said her 
father, '^ and I need not have told you these 
things, for you cannot go into her room and 
hear her speak without feeling that there is 
sacredness in the very atmosphere, and really 
thinking that chamber 

" privileged beyond the eommon walks 
Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven." 



78 PBOCEASTINATION ; OE, 



CHAPTER IX. 

The Sabbath came and passed^ the shades 
of its night gathered peacefully and slowly 
around^ as if reluctant to terminate another 
holy day — ^to close another priceless gift to 
man. But it was gone to bear its faithfid re* 
port to the upper world ; all the opportunities 
for securing the &vor of heaven which had 
not been improved were there entered, and 
could never return* No neglect or thought- 
lessness could be retrieved ; no unworthy act 
rendered better; all had been faithfully re- 
ported, without exaggeration, or flattery, or 
omission ; each thought, with its kindred word 
and deed, must again be met with and fully 
remembered there. O, what a reflection ! 
How shall we be able to bear the scrutiny of 
the all-searching Eye upon our thoughtless 
lives ? With the vast accounts of that great 
day surely before us, shall they remain so 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 79 

thoughtless still? Shall Sabbath after Sab- 
bath pass from us, and we never think that 
only the blood of Christ could procure for us 
these precious gifts, these tranquil hours, 
which more than all the week beside seem to 
offer an open way to the seat of pardoning 
love and mercy ! 

Shall no thoughts of that eternal Sabbath 
which is to dawn upon the grave, fill our 
minds? and no prayer be formed in our hearts 
ascending to his throne, that we may be per- 
mitted to spend it amid the glories of the up- 
per sanctuary ? 

Maria laid herself down at night ; a slight 
retrospect of the by-gone day passed through 
her mind ; it was sufficient to convince her 
how deeply unworthy of those solemn hours 
had been almost every thought and emotion. 
She had presented herself regularly at church, 
yet it was but appearing in the courts of the 
Lord's house. She could recal little of the 
sermon ; she felt no disposition to jdn in the 



80 PROCBASTINATION ; OR, 

songs of praise^or enter into the spirit of the 
addresses to the throne of grace. , Should the 
truth be told, which she was unwilling to 
confess to her own heart, her thoughts had 
been wandering busily to things of slight- 
est importance, — ^the face of a friend, her 
plans for the coming week, the pattern of a 
collar, the fold of a cape, the color of a bon- 
net, — all supplied materials of thought enough 
to keep out those of spiritual and eternal con- 
sequence. Maria was very unhappy in these 
reflections, and could only soothe her anxiety 
by the thought that she should, before long, 
sincerely repent of these sins, and be forgiven. 
But is one who reads these lines, depending 
upon some uncertain moment in which they 
will repent and be forgiven ? Let them beware 
that they presume not too much upon the 
long-suffering of God ; that they delay not 
those things of infinite importance to a mo- 
ment when it may be for ever too late. It 
is not a light iJiing to lose the soul! 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 81 



CHAPTER X. 

After Mr. Winslow had left them on 
Monday morning, Maria commenced prepara- 
tions to fulfil her engagement for the evening, 
with Mrs. Bartlett ; which she found would 
so occupy her time, that she could find no 
moment to devote to Elizabeth, according to 
the promise made. She had some articles to 
purchase, and was passing hurriedly down W. 
street, when suddenly she heard her name 
quickly and loudly pronounced, with the ap- 
pended familiar question — "Is that you?" 
She turned in astonishment, to discover 
whence the sound proceeded. A stage coach 
was standing before a hotel door, fix>m which 
some passengers were alighting ; and glancing 
in, she caught a view of the cheerful face of 
aunt Merry, leaning forward to meet her eye. 
Her first impulse was — not to see her; and 
she was hastening on, when again loudly sum- 
7 



82 procrastination; or, 

moned, she paused. ^' Law sakes ! " ex- 
claimed the old lady, " to think you did'nt 
know me ! I guess you did'nt expect to see 
me here. Well, how glad I am to see you. 
I am so tired of jolting over these cobble- 
stones, if it wam't for my trunk and bandbox, 
I'd get right out and walk home with you. 
Wait a minute, and I'll ask the driver if he — 
Had'nt you, sir," said she, turning to- 
wards the driver, who then stepped up to 
mount his seat — ^^ Had'nt you just as lives 
take my things up to my son's house, and let 
me get out here ? " " O no, aunt Merry," 
said Maria, ** you had better ride, by all 
means ; it is a long walk from here. Besides, 
I have some shopping to do ; but will be at 
home soon after you arrive." 

" Well, perhaps I had bes^ ride," replied 
the old lady, settling back upon her seat, ^^ I 
have got a good many little notions round me, 
which I could not so well carry myself. A 
little pul of honey which our bees made, and 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 83 

my new cap/' continued she, as she held up 
a stiff looking parcel, enveloped in a red ban- 
danna handkerchief — "I will tell you all 
about it/' 

" Yes, aunt ; but I shall meet you again 
soon," said Maria, glad to improve the first 
opportunity to escape from the stage door. 

She accomplished her shopping, and on her 
return, found aunt Merry comfortably seated 
before the parlor fire, her face beaming with 
satisfaction, and with ain air as undisturbed as 
if she had been sitting in her own little old- 
fashioned room at home. 

" Well, Caroline," said she, as Mrs. Fin- 
ney re-entered, " you do have things hand- 
some here. It is really worth a while to look 
round. I don't see how upon earth you could 
think of all of them. I suppose I shall learn 
their names and uses by and by, for I am go- 
ing to make you a nice long visit, and told 
Mary that I should not worry any about her 
or the children, but just enjoy myself." 



84 PROCBASTINATION ; OR, 

'^That is right, aunt. I hope you will 
find your visit pleasant." 

"O, Ihave no doubt but I shall. You 
know if I am old, I like to be with young 
folks, and see them happy, and know all what 
they are doing ; and though I do not have 
such fine things at home, I like to see them 
when I come here ; which I begin to think 
will not be many times more. I was seventy- 
one years old yesterday, and at that time of 
life, people cannot make calculations far 
ahead." 

" I know it, aunt," said Mrs. Finney ; but 
you must not be low-spirited. You have the 
means, you know, of going about firom place 
to place, to enjoy society, and do as you 
please; and you are very active yet, and in 
good health ; which I hope may be long pre- 
served to you." 

" O yes. I do not think, girls, that there 
are many of my age who would have set out 
alone in the stage, to travel sixty miles ; and 



MARIA LOUISA WtNSLOW. 85 

It was a hard day's work for me, but I was 
kept in safety. And as for being low-spirited, 
I hope I shall never be guilty of that ingrati- 
tude, so long as I can look back upon the 
many years of ray life, and see how I have 
been sustained through every trial ; and now 
that the time draws near for me to go to that 
Father who has so constantly taken care of 
me, I am far from being melancholy about it ; 
the thought makes me very happy. Why, 
Caroline, I expect better society in Heaven 
than I can have upon earth." 

" I rejoice, aunt, that you can be so happy. 
Some appear very reluctant to think or speak 
of being old and soon called away," said Mrs. 
Finney. 

" Old age must be very gloomy, without 
the comforts of religion ; and I wish to tell you 
both all about this, when we can sit down to- 
gether quietly. Maria appears troubled about 
her work. Let me look at it ; perhaps I can 
help you a little ; I am pretty good at cutting 
7* 



86 PROCBASTIKATION ; OR, 

and plaoDing, yet. Dear me, what a beauty ! 
Mary bad a dress cut very much so, a few 
days ago. She had none of this thin white 
stuff ruffled on. She made a little party one 
evening. I helped her plan and fix for it, 
and we did have a beautiful time ; every thing 
went off nicely. Are you going to a party, 
Maria?" 

^' No, aunt ; I am going to the theatre.'' 
" The theatre !" exclaimed she, "O, Ma- 
ria, /would not go there" 

** Then I shall not invite you, aunt ; " said 
Maria, laughing. And while she pursued her 
work, aunt Merry, happy and communica- 
tive, entertained her with the afiairs of her 
daughter Mary's family, (in which she resi- 
ded,) and entered, with much interest, into 
her preparations for the evening ; occasionally 
mingling some word of religious advice, or 
kindly implying some honest caution; for 
aunt Merry, ever cheerful and pleasant, was 
also ever spiritual and devoted; and never 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 87 

failed to follow her own convictions of duty, 
in recommending the Saviour in whom she 
trusted, whenever an opportunity occurred, 
without a thought that Mrs. Finney could ob- 
ject to her introducing the subject often to the 
gay friends who visited her. And when Mrs. 
Finney suggested to her that perhaps she 
might prefer to remain more in her own room, 
where she would be more undisturbed and 
quiet, aunt Merry only thought it as kindly 
intended as it was expressed ; and would re- 
ply, " O no, Caroline, don't worry about me. 
I enjoy sitting with you much the best. I 
like to see your friends ; and if I can some- 
times put in a word in favor of religion, it will 
do me good, if it does no one else." 

" But, aunt," Mrs. Finney would say, 
" they do not like to hear of these things, you 
know." 

^^May be not, Caroline; but so much 
more need of mentioning it, then." 

The old lady persevered in her efforts ; and 



88 PiftOCRASTINATION ; OR9 

if a smile, or peculiar expression of counte- 
nance, was often the only answer to some 
well meant, plainly uttered sentiment, aunt 
Merry understood it not. Doubtless many a 
word which her kind spirit suggested, and to 
which her happy, placid face added interest, 
has often returned to the minds of those to 
whom they were addressed, and received then 
but in scorn or lightness. Whether they may 
have had an influence to lead one to the truth, 
can only be known in the day when ^^ the 
thoughts of all hearts shall be revealed," and 
when the humble, sincere word, spoken in the 
name of Jesus, shall receive its sure reward. 



CHAPTER XL 

" Procrastination is the thief of time ;" and 
not only robs us of days and hours which can 
never be restored, but it steals from us the 



tfARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 89 

deep emotions of sympathy which would ex- 
cite us to act for those around. Feelings of 
love and pity, which spring up in the heart, 
soon droop and die, if they be not cherished 
and increased by exertion in behalf of those 
who need our effi>rts. 

While we delay to afford the delicate at- 
tention, or administer the kind relief which is 
in our power, we may be thoughtlessly adding 
bitterness to the heart already wounded by 
affliction, and pained by sorrow. Those who 
are surrounded by the comforts and pleasures 
of life, often too little think how valuable to 
the lonely and destitute are those kind offices, 
so easily bestowed ; a word, a look even, of 
sympathy and affection, may brighten many 
an hour of despondency, and bless the poor 
with many pleasant thoughts.^ 

Day after day some cause or other pre- 
vented Maria from fulfilling her intended plans 
of visiting Elizabeth, and when night came, 
and the objects which so detained her had 



90 PROCRAl^TiKATlON ; OR^ 

passed away, she could only regret the neg- 
lect, and wonder that what was in itself of so 
little interest, should have been sufficient to 
detain her from this duty. A fortnight had 
gone by, while Elizabeth had watched, hour 
by hour, from day to day, for the promised 
call. If a thought sometimes whispered that 
Maria neglected her, she was ready to chide 
herself, and think that long illness had ren- 
dered her selfish, and disposed to ask too 
much of common friendship. 

At length a favorable time arrived, and 
Maria was preparing to make the visit, with 
deep regret, and continually reproaching her- 
self for past inexcusable negligence. ^^ But I 
will be more attentive for the future," thought 
she ; ^' I will show Elizabeth that I am not so 
indifferent to h^ as she must now think me 
to be.'' And she derived some comfort in the 
reflection that she would retrieve the past by 
the future — the ever promising future 1 

" I wish, Maria, you would let me go with 



M^JMA LOXJISA. WI]^5L0W. 91 

you, to see that poor sick girl/' said aunt 
Merry. " I think we should be very good 
friends." 

Maria felt that it would be some relief from 
the embarrassment of ber feelings, to have 
company, and gladly acquiesced. As she 
saw the Utile trim figure of aunt Merry, who 
in a few moments presented herself at the 
door, she could scarcely refrain from a smile ; 
and to conceal it, turned away as if to arrange 
her scarf. She looked down upon her own 
rich satin dress, and caught a glance of the 
long bright feathers waving gracefully over 
her shoulder. 

As they pursued their way, feelings the 
most sad filled Maria's mind. She tried to 
picture to herself the reception she should 
meet from Elizabeth. She fancied ber pale 
and sickly countenance looking upon her with 
a grieved expression, almost of reproach, and 
knew not how she should m^et it. 

As they turned into A.... street, and the 



92 procrastination; or, 

white pillars and the majestic dome of this 
benevolent asylum for the suffering first greet- 
ed their eyes, Maria's heart sickened. She 
would then gladly have sacrificed any pleas- 
ure she had enjoyed since her arrival, had she 
but made one visit to Elizabeth. "I will 
never again neglect duty to gratify myself," 
thought she. 

They entered the silent court, and passed 
noiselessly up the staii*s, until, following the 
directions they had received, they came to 
Elizabeth's room, in the third story. Maria 
knocked faintly upon the door, and a sweet, 
gentle voice replied, " Come in." With 
trembling hand, she opened it, and entered. 
Elizabeth was sitting alone by the fire, in a 
large arm-chair ; much paler and more ema- 
ciated than Maria expected. A blush came 
quickly to her face, and a tear started to her 
eye, as she rose with difficulty, and, taking a 
crutch, which was leaning by her chair, en- 
deavored to meet them. Her countenance 



XABIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 93 

for a moment exhibited much emotion ; then 
became calm and cheerful. 

" My dear Miss Winslow, how very kind you 
are ! " and the tear which first came, was fol- 
lowed by another, and another. 

^' I did not think I should have been so 
childish," said she, bowing her head low to 
meet the thin hand she could not sufficiently 
raise to brush them away, " but you will, 1 
hope, excuse me : I so seldom see a friend, 
that I know not how little fortitude I have to 
meet them." 

Maria uttered an expression of sympathy, 
and attempted something like an apology for 
the neglect, which Elizabeth so kindly waived 
that she was ready to believe she had not ex- 
pected her before, and began ta feel more 
comfortable. 

As the first excitement of their meeting sub- 
sided, Elizabeth conversed with more cheer- 
fulness, and the purified Christian spirit which 
had sustained her through the afflictive dis- 
9 



94 PBOC&ASTINATION ; OB, 

ease, beamed Ibrtli upon her features, and m 
her words. She earoestty recommended 
the subject of religion to Maria's immediate 
attention, in language the most affectionate 
and impressive* Maria could not but own the 
importance of her remarks, and the more, be- 
cause Elizabeth, who once enjoyed the plea- 
sures which occupied her mind, could now 
look upon them in their true light. 

When the hand of Providence places afflic- 
tion upon us, and calls us for a season to leave 
the pleasures whose hurry and vanity secured 
all our thoughts, then can we see them as they 
are — how do they shrink away before the con- 
cerns of Eternity, and what we before con- 
sidered as enjoyments, appear hardly to de- 
serve the name. 

As Elizabeth urged the subject, Maria lis- 
tened attentively, but seldom replied. A 
pause ensued, and Maria again alluded to the 
sufferings of Elizabeth with much interest. 

^' I have now an opportunity," replied she, 



MABIA LffUiaA WIinLOW* 96 

" of testing the strength of those hopes I have 
been recommendbg to you, and they do not 
fail me. It is a Father's care and lore 
which is thus drawing me nearer to himself; 
if I may but continue to feel that it b from 
His handy I am resigned ; I have sometimes 
feared that I might become impatient and lose 
the benefit of this visitation.'' 

" I hope the affliction may soon be remov- 
ed/' said Maria. 

Elizabeth smiled sadly, and replied, th«t 
die had committed it to Him who knew be^ 
what she needed. ^' I hoped/' said she, '^ that 
I was be^^nbg to be a little useful in the 
school which had been entrusted to me — ^but 
God now calls me to serve him in another 
way, not by doing but by mffering His will. 
He does not preclude me from usefulness, and 
I am satisfied that it should be just as He 
pleases." 

Aunt Merry drew her chair nearer to Eliz- 
abeth, and raising her spectacles as she wiped 



96 procrastination; or, 

her eyes, said : " My young friend, you have 
well learned a lesson from Jesus — we know of 
no words like those which he has taught us — 
" Thy will be done." 

CHAPTER XIL 

^^ What an uncommon young woman that 
is," said aunt Merry, the next morning after 
their visit to Elizabeth. " I will tell you 
what I have been thinking of — ^you know I 
have enough of this world's goods, for myself, 
and sometimes to help those along who need 
my help. Now I have been thinking, that I 
shall ask her to go home with me, if she is 
able, and stay just as long as she pleases. If 
she gets well enough to teach, and would be 
glad to, there is Mary's husband, he is one of 
the school committee in our village, and he 
can get the chance for her, no doubt. But, 



tURIA LOUISA WIN8LOW. 97 

if she is not well enough, she shall live with 
Mary and me ; we shall all be better for having 
her with us. What do you think of my 
plan ?» 

" We think it a very good one," said Mrs. 
Finney, ^^it appears very much like one, 
right from aunt Merry's warm heart.'' 

" Now, when will you go with me Maria, 
to talk with her about it ?" 

" Well, aunt," said Maria, "had you not 
better go alone ? we will send for a carriage, 
for you. Perhaps she would feel less embar- 
rassment, to see you about it by yourself." 

" May be she would," replied aunt Merry; 
" so I guess I'll go to her this morning." 

Accordingly the good old lady again pre- 
pared herself, and set off on her visit to the 
hospital. Maria, happy that Elizabeth had 
found in aunt Merry so kind a friend, and 
one so well able to assist her, commenced her 
employment, with a lighter heart. 

^' Will your dress be done in season for the 
8* 



98 procrastination; or, 

dance to-morrow evening?" inquired Mrs. 
Finney. 

" I expect it will," replied Maria, "Miss 

C said I should have it a little past six 

o'clock, without fail." 

" That will hardly be in time for you to be 
ready at seven," said Mrs. Finney, "and 
you should be no later than that, to ride four 
miles." 

"It may not be ready," replied Maria. 
" But I almost wish I had not engaged to go ; 
I shall not enjoy it much." 

" Why do you feel so, Maria ? I thought 
there was nothing could exhilarate you, like 
the prospect of a dance." 

" It is not so to-day," said Maria ; and her 
eyes filled with tears. 

" What can be the matter with you, Maria? 
Is it because you are so anxious about Eliza- 
beth ?" 

" No, no ;" I only wish I had the same 
source of happiness that she has. I am not 



MARIA LOriSA WINSLOW. 99 

anxious about her, for she enjoys the favor of 
Heaven ; I would that I did also, but this is 
not the way to procure it." 

" Ob, do not be so gloomy, Maria. Why 
should you be unhappy, merely because an 
unfortunate sick girl tells you there is no last- 
ing happiness on earth. We knew that before ; 
therefore, it is best to enjoy these things, as 
we pass along, and not be careful about the 
future. I have no doubt all will be well with 
us." 

" Do you think so ? " asked Maria, solemn- 
My. 

" Why, yes — ^I hope it will ; but do not get 
in such a state of mind, you will make me 
very unhappy. Now prepare for this party, 
and be like yourself again. Shall you wear your 
set of cameo ? " 

"I think I ought not to go," said Maria. 

" Yes, I would go ; there can be no harm 
in it. You will forget these things when 
you are there." 



100 procrastination; or, 

" I kaow, Caroline, it is not right to for- 
get them ; and I am half resolved to send 
word, that I shall not go." 

^^Do not, Maria, be so dull, and so ccid. 
Think how much would be said about it-^— so 
many questions, why you were not there. I 
should be sorry to tell them the reason. There 
is no necessity of making yourself so singu*> 
lar ; the sleighing is fine, the company will be 
very select. I would not be influenced to give 
it up, by such thoughts." 

^' It is not the first time I have had such 
thoughts, Caroline. I know not what to do." 

" Then listen to my advbe, mid go, by all 
means." 

Maria walked to the window in silence. 

'' Here comes aunt Merry," said Mrs. Fin- 
ney, as a carriage drove to the door. I hope 
she will have nothing very serious to say to 
us now." 

<' She looks happy, at any rate," said Maria. 

And it was true, the old lady had never 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 101 

worn a gladder face, or carried a lighter heart 
within her bosom. 

" And so, aunt, we conclude you have been 
successful, if your countenance be a fair index," 
said Mrs. Finney, as the old lady entered. 

" Yes, that I have,'' replied she, " and I 
am as happy, as if I had found a prize. I 
feel ten. years younger than I did last night, 
when the thoughts of that good girl, lay like 
a weight on my heart." 

" She is very good, certainly," said Mrs. 
Finney. 

" Why, she is beautifiil," persisted the old 
lady. " I never saw any body like her ; she 
is an older Christian now, than I am ; when 
we give our hearts all up to Christ, as she has 
done, we learn His wisdom very fast." 

'^ I hope you will not allow this to shorten 
your visit with, us," said Mrs. Finney. 

"I thank you, Caroline, but I think we 
had better go as soon as she is able, which 
may be in a very few weeks." 



103 PKOCIUSTIirATION ; OStj 

Maria's serious eniotioDS, with regard to the 
dance, did not subside altogether, by her ra- 
ter's coi^nued efforts to banish them from her 
mind, but kept fluctuating there, until the hour 
had nearly arrived. The expected dress was 
sent in — -a rose-cdcMred Josephine, made and 
trimmed in the most finished taste. As it was 
displayed before her, she clapped her hands 
with delight, and hastened to prepare herself. 

^^ I do think, Maria, it is too cold for you to 
wear a dress so veiy thin," said Mrs. Finney, 
why not wear your light blue silk ? " 

'^Oh, nonsense, Caroline, I cannot wear it, 
this is so much handsomer, and more becom- 
ing-'' 

" I fear you will take cold, nevertheless." 

" Oh, no ; it is not possible," said Maria, 
too much excited, and hurried, to consider a 
moment — ^^ I do not like the cameos, Caro- 
line, they are too heavy ; let me wear your 
set of topaz and pearl." 

Maria surveyed her person, as reflected 
upon the long mirror, with evident satisfac- 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 103 

tion. Frmn the queenly Camilla in her braid- 
ed hair, to the white satin slipper on her foot, 
all was just as she would have it ; she gave 
anothar smile of gratification, as she again 
turned round before the flattering glass ; anoth- 
er thought of triumph filled her mind, and she 
was soon on her way to M 

All misgivings had ceased — the Spirit of 
Grod breathed not upon her conscience, to 
arouse one slumbering fear — ^for she had made 
her chaice. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

We come now to the last sad chapter of 
Maria's history. It may be sadden, and un- 
expected to the reader ; it was so to her ; it 
was so to those who had been acquainted with 
her; and is but one more warning added to 
the long list of those which so often come upoq 



104 PBOCRASTINATION ; OR, 

US from the busy scenes of life, with the im- 
pressive caution,—*" Be ye also ready.'* 

Learn, then, from these little details, here 
given, not to neglect the still small voice 
which invites us to the cross of Christ. It is 
the Spirit of God within ; not one fear of 
death, not one desire for religion, not one as- 
piration for Heaven, comes to the mind, but 
is imparted by this holy messenger. If these 
fail to secure attention, if the lessons we may 
learn, from the fate of those around, fail to in- 
fluence us, — God will speak no louder, nor 
use more striking means to draw us to Him. 
Then, if these fail, we cannot enter the 
kingdom of Heaven. 

Permit a few words, ere we briefly give 
the sequel. Maria, once lived and enjoyed 
the society of a circle of friends, who are still 
around us. She passed about our streets, gay 
and happy, in the anticipation of long life ; 
and participating in the most fascbating plea- 
sures which the worU can give. Warning 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 105 

after warning spoke to her soul,/ and thought 
after thought of the necessity of repentance 
and faith mingled with these, and passed 
away, leaving no lasting impression upon her 
mind, to influence her conduct, or turn her 
steps into the way which leadeth to everlast- 
ing life. — She has now gone from these ; her 
spirit lives, but we cannot trace its flight ; we 
know not what intercourse that spirit may 
have had with the Redeemer, during those 
last hours in which she remained insensible 
to external circumstances ; we know not how 
much the grace of God i;nay then have accom- 
plished for her. Yet, presume not too much 
upon His compassion. It is a wiser, happier 
choice, and more acceptable to Heaven, to give 
the fresh first fruits of life to Him who gives that 
life. Another warning is now ofiered you; neg- 
lect it not ; but as you pause at the conclusion, 
letthe words we have once before quoted, come 
to your heart, — " Be ye also ready." 

The assembly for which Maria had made 
9 



106 procrastination; or^ 

so much preparation, attended often by so anx- 
ious thought, was the last occasion on which 
she was to meet her friends, the last hour of 
health which was to be afforded her. Oh, 
that it had been devoted to Heaven ! 

As she returned late at night, chilled and 
exhausted, she sought her chamber with a 
heart unfitted for reflection, untuned for praj- 
er. Feverish and restless, her slumber was 
disturbed, and even the few hours, which re- 
mained until the dawning of the day, seemed 
to her insupportably tedious. In the mom- 
bg she found herself unable to rise, and aunt 
Merry attended her with the usual prescrip- 
tions for severe colds ; but as evening again 
came on, and the fever appeared to increase, 
while no benefit resulted firom the customary 
appliances, they became more solicitous, and 
sent for a physician, who pronounced a fever 
seated upon her system. Maria heard this 
announcement with terror. 

"Oh Doctor," groaned she, "can you cure 
me?" 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 107 

'^ Do not be alarmed, Miss/' replied be ; '* I 
shall endeavor to manage it with my utmost 
skill, and trust I shall be successful. You 
must sustain yourself in good spirits, and not 
be apprehensive about the results ; you can 
aid my elSforts much in this way.'' 

Maria sought to compose herself, as well as 
she could, and would not speak of what so 
filled her mind, lest something might be elici- 
ted from those around, which should add to 
her fears. 

With much anxiety, but with affected gay- 
ety, Mrs. Finney conversed with her often, of 
the various circumstances which she thought 
would cheer her. She inquired of the party, 
but Maria turned her head languidly ^a way. 
She felt aware, that there she had sinned a- 
gainst Heaven, by resisting the Spirit. 

She talked of their friends, but Maria 
felt that the word was misapplied ; how could 
they be friends ? for they had helped to with- 
draw her attention from her most important in- 



108 procrastination; or, 

terests. She talked of the fashioDS, and Maria 
could but feel, that they were do longer Car 
her consideration. 

She accepted of aunt Merry's kind request 
to remain with her through the night, and re- 
peatedly urged Mrs. Finney to go to her 
room, for repose. She reluctantly yielded, 
and Maria became more composed. 

The good old lady moved lightly about the 
chamber, and thought Maria asleep. She 
stepped softly to her bed-side, to watch her 
breathing. Maria opened her eyes, and ta- 
king the hand which was put forth to smooth 
her pillow, exclaimed, in an earnest whisper, 
" Aunt Merry, do you think I shall die ? " 

" My dear child," replied the old lady, with 
a tremulous voice, " God knows. Pray to 
Him." 

" I cannot," replied Maria. " I know not 
where to find Him." 

" He is by your bed-side, Maria ; nearer 
than I can be to you. You are in no danger 
if you trust in Him." 



MARIA LOUISA WINJSLOW. 109 

Maria closed her eyes agaiD^ and said, 
" Aunt Merry, I cannot pray." 

The night went by in silence, and the 
rooming came. Maria's disease assumed a 
more alarming and decided character. A 
new, most gloomy fear, was aroused in the 
hearts of her friends, by its manifesting an 
apparent determination to the brain. 

Mr. Winslow was sent for, and all the day 
Maria employed herself by counting the hours 
previous to his arrival. She appeared inca- 
pable of steady, serious thought ; and through 
all the time, expressed no emotions of the 
alarm which she had felt the day before. 

A heaviness and insensibility was gathering 
like a mist over her mind, which her experi- 
enced physician observed with much dread. 
He expressed not an opinion to her anxious 
friends, and endeavored to maintain a cheerful 
aspect ; although Mrs. Finney's eye of affec- 
tion read in his thoughtful countenance suffi- 
cient to increase her fears. 
9* 



110 procrastination; or, 

Late at night, Mr» Winslow arrived; and 
as Maria continued to sleep, he thought it 
best to avoid any thing which might awake 
her, and increase her agitation* 

In the morning, seating himself by her bed- 
side, and gazing upon her flushed cheeks with 
experienced skill, and with the fondness and 
solicitude which only a parent can know, he 
subdued his emotion, and waited until she 
should awake again from these ominous slum- 
bers. 

Presently she looked up, and fixing her 
eyes a moment upon him, while the afiectipns 
of her heart appeared to be rallying them- 
selves, she threw her arms about his neck, 
pressed him again and again to her fevered 
cheeks. " My dear, dear father," said she, 
'' must 1 die}'' 

He covered his face with his hands, as he 
felt the hopelessness of the case, but could 
not speak it; and replied only, ^^ We shall do 
all we can to restore you." 



MARIA LOUISA WINSLOW. Ill 

"I know it, dearest father," said she;" 
^' but do you think I must die 1 CanH you 
save me?" 

" We will hope to, Maria — ^we will try ; do 
not be alarmed." 

For a little while, the excitement of her 
mind was extreme. Then the dreadful effect 
of the disease upon the brain again came over 
her with its stupefying power. She slept : 
but when she awoke, it was no longer with a 
consciousness of her dangerous situation. Her 
mind was wandering, and feeble, as if the 
palsying hand of the disease was upon it. She 
talked low and incoherently of the scenes of 
her past life, as if she were again surrounded 
by them ; and of the future, as if its long, 
fair vista still opened before her. 

She lingered a day or two, without a word 
of hope, or apparently returning intelligence ; 
then closed her eyes for ever upon the world 
to which. she had been so devoted, and enter- 
ed that other world, for whose employments 
and happmess she had made no preparations. 



112 procrastination; or, 

The light was partially excluded from the 
bouse, and the sombre silence which brooded 
over all around, told the tale that Death had 
been there. Each one moved noiselessly 
about, as if fearful of disturbing the lifeless 
remains which lay cold and alone in that 
darkened chamber. 

The funeral hour arrived, and the friends 
of Maria, who had not seen her since she 
mingled gayly in their bright circle, gathered, 
with pale cheeks, solemnly around her coffin. 
Many looked with tears upon the awful 
change ; and in suppressed voices, spoke to 
each other of her amiable qualities ; of her 
lovely, ever cheerful countenance ; and of the 
loss they had sustained by her death. 

She was to be buried under the church 
where she had for years listened to invitations 
to eternal life. 

After winding through the noisy streets of 
the city, in most solemn contrast to the throng 
which hurried on, in pursuit of life's trifles^ 



MABIA LOUISA WINSLOW. 115 

moment when the body, once consigned with 
tears to corruption, shall come forth incorrup- 
tible, spiritual and glorious ! Of the time and 
manner we know not ; sufficient to us is the 
strong assurance of scripture — "We know 
that when he shall appear, we shall be like 
him ; for we shall see him as he is/' 

The story is finished. It is of but recent 
occurrence, and related not for remarkable de- 
tails contained in it, for there are none ; but 
as one singled from the many similar events 
which transpire around us, by which God de- 
signs to lead our minds firom the various pur- 
suits that so engross our attention, to a knowl- 
edge of himself; and to fix upon our thoughts 
the dangers of that evil most fatal to the soul — 
Procrastination. 



J i ,m rJ iC t 



^^'^ 62 ;,t/w